The First Career
by IszyStone
Summary: This is my take on the first hunger games, through the eyes of a would be career. My first real fanfiction. Please Review.


The First Career

By Morgan A.

It was finally over, the scariest time of my young life. It seemed like forever that the fighting would continue. Bombs, Guns, Mutated animals…finally gone. Peace resumes, everything is back to normal. At least as normal as things can be after a whole district is destroyed. As normal as things can get when, after we fight for everything, we lose more than we had before. As normal as things can be when all freedom has been taken away. As normal as things can be when, in a year, the Capitol's vengeful games start. As normal as things can be when, in a year, _they _will watch us as we pay for what we've done. When they will get excited for 24 of our children go into the death hole that they create just so we don't forget. When 24 of our innocent die just so we know how wrong we were. When 24 people, just like me, maybe me, have to pay for what our parents have done.

We had nothing before; Nothing to lose. Nothing, until we realized, as they've so revoltingly shown us, that there is very much to lose. And, in a year, we'll have to deal with what we've done, and what they've sentenced unto us for it. In a year, everything that we didn't know we could lose will be lost. In a year, we'll be forced to watch, as those who are too innocent to be punished, pay the ultimate price. In a year, the hunger games will begin.

Life in District 10 was the same as always. Wake up, deal with the livestock, go home and rest, repeat. Except now, we're all scared. Scared because every night we have to tune in, have to find out more about the games that will crush us.

This is all I can think about as I feed the new born calves, all I can focus of until my mother brings me back to the world, " Taura, your spilling the milk! How many times do I have to tell you to pay attention to what your doing."

"Sorry, mom. I guess I'm just a little distracted today." What else would I be. Last night we found out our punishment, last night my world changed.

"What's on your mind?" My mother put down her bottle and gave all her attention to me.

"It's these games. I'm afraid. They said, 'kids twelve to eighteen'," I had just turned seventeen last month, making be perfectly eligible.

"Honey," she paused thinking of a way to calm me, "They said it would be completely random. The chances of you being chosen are 2,000 to one." She said trying to the voice of reason that I completely lacked.

"I know, but…"

She cut me off, "Don't even think about it anymore. You'll just worry yourself sick, like you always do over silly things."

"This isn't si.." I tried to retort.

"Not another word young lady." And with that she resumed feeding the confused calf, signaling that there would be no more discussion.

That was the last we spoke of the games. Of course, I tried to bring it up, but my mother would always tell me to forget about it. But how could I? Every few nights more information; More things I just don't want to know, but won't be able to keep out of my mind.

The games will come in spring. The games will have an opening ceremony where each district gets to be represented in costume. The Tributes will train. The tributes will have interviews. The tributes will be put in that god forsaken arena where they have to fight for the death so the capitol can celebrate while everyone else suffer just for them.

The tributes will have a chance to get supplies from a cornucopia in the arena. When a tribute dies a canon will go off, and their face will be projected in the arena sky. When there are eight tributes left there will be interviews with their families. When the last one stands they will be forever glorified and live in the lap of luxury in the "victors village," a stupid name if you ask me.

As they and their families get everything in the world what about the others? What about the families of the dead? What happens to them? Every year they will be reminded of the one they lost, of the suffering that took place in the arena, of the cruel punishment that the capitol bestows unto us, that we have no way of ever stopping.

Even as my favorite event comes around, the annual rodeo, I can't forget. As I challenge others kids like me, I can only think, that when we rope the cows, will it help us bind others in the arena? When we're on our own farms will all our hard work be put into some kind of murderous act? When we slice the beef for shipment, are we preparing to slice the throats of other kids just like us? When we are hammering in a nail to fix pens, are we training to hammer in the heads of opponents?

As I think these things I scare myself when my mind wanders and I convince myself, that if I get into the arena, by some horrible twist of fate, I'll be ready. I become more frightened when I imagine the best way to restrain a human. The best angle to get when I'm about to slice a throat, the best place to strike when I smash in someone's head.

Sadly, overtime, I humor these thoughts. As I Perform my tasks I think of it as practice. Now every morning I run, thinking that if I slow down someone will catch me, and kill me. Every time I slaughter a cow, I try to do it as quickly as possible. I grab a heavier sledgehammer when going out to repair a fence. I find that I'm preparing for the games.

I'm becoming the monster that the capitol wants me to be. The one so set on destroying others that I can't focus on coming together with them to take down the real enemy. I realize that this is what they want. To keep our minds away from coming together so we don't rebel again. To keep our minds away from the common goal, by focusing on a much closer one. I realize that what ever they are trying to do, it is working.

Finally, the day comes. The day of the reaping, when they randomly choose two children, one boy and one girl, to put in their horrible games. The worst part is, I could be one of those children. And, for some reason, I kind of hope I am. I've spent all this time wondering, thinking, fearing this day. And, it feels like, if I'm not chosen all that would have been for nothing. All the preparation and hard work. For nothing.

I hate myself for thinking this way, but I can't help it. I try to drive the thoughts down and believe that, if I'm not chosen I'll be relieved rather than upset, I'll go back to my farm and relax, I'll go back to the way things were. But I know, that even if I return home, I'll just prepare harder for next year. And if I'm lucky to not be chosen again, I'll finally be free of the capitols games, I'll finally be able to relax. But right now I don't want that, I want to be in that arena. I want to put everything I've practiced to work. I want to be in the Hunger games.

As I stand in my pen with other 17 year old girls like myself I listen to the announcer, "Welcome to the first reaping of the first Hunger games." Her voice is excited and proud, telling be what the capitol thinks of all of this. It makes me want the games so much more, then she says something that make me ecstatic, "After I pull out the name of the tribute at random there will be chance for the other eligible children to volunteer to take their place." The she commenced to choose the tributes.

At that point I've made my decision, it doesn't matter who she called, I don't even stop to think about whether I know the girl or not, I shove my way to the front of the pen and practically screaming, "I VOLUNTEER! I VOLUNTEER!" I run up to the stage and stand next the announcer, "I want to take her place."

The announcer looks at me like I'm the craziest person in the world, "And your name is?"

"Taura Rider." I say proudly, but as soon as I utter the words my mother is screaming.

"No, No, No!" As she tries to burst out of the crowd, with tears falling down her face, the peacekeepers restrain her.

"Well, good job young lady." Our announcer says. "How about we find out who will be joining you." She turns to the container of every name of every eligible male in our district. "Bos Falion," she says calmly. Soon enough the young man that owns that name walks up onto the stage. "Any volunteers to replace him?" Our announcer asks the crowd. No One replies.

I shake the young mans hand, studying him. Noticing that he is younger, less muscular, and shorter than me, I start to think that this will be a great advantage to myself. Soon the anthem plays, and we are rushed off to the Justice building to say our "last goodbyes." If I have anything to do with it, this will certainly not be the last time, but for my mothers sake I act like it is anyway.

"Why?" She asks me tears running down her face.

"I don't know. I just, I just…couldn't help myself." As sorry an excuse as it is that's the truth. I couldn't help myself from thinking about it, I couldn't help myself from preparing, and I couldn't resist the opportunity to be a part of the games.

My father is with us too, but he doesn't say anything. He just holds my mother's hand and keeps his arms around my shoulders as we both watch her cry. As we are told that we have five minutes left he opens his mouth, "I don't know why you chose to do this. I don't want to know why. I just want you to know that I'll be routing for you. And if you don't comeback, I want you to know that you're the best daughter I could have." It's sweet, it's simple, exactly what I'd expect from my father."

Then my mother says something I could never have imagined, "If you don't come back to me I'll hate you forever. If you go in there and don't do everything you can to survive, I will personally hope you lose those games. Just try to come back to me okay." Surprisingly this is what I wanted to hear, this is the encouragement I needed. I can't go in there after what I'm putting her through and just give myself up.

I promise her, "I won't go down with out taking them down with me." She simply nods; it's all I need.

The woman who was announcing earlier tells us our time is up. I hug my parents good bye. And we are taken to the train that will bring us to the capitol.

On the train I see the mountains go by as we approach the capitol. It's the first time I've really seen anything higher than a hill. They stand so tall before me I can't imagine what it would be like to climb one, but I still see myself standing at the top. As I'm daydreaming, Joya, our announcer, came into my car.  
"Do you want to watch the other reapings from the different districts." She offered.

"Sure." Was my eager reply. I finally get to scope out my competition.

As we're watching I noticed that everyone who stepped up on stage looked scared out of their minds. Well, except me. I just looked like a lunatic running up there and screaming about how badly I wanted it. Even the other volunteers looked frightened, but they tried to hide it. Of them there was a large, muscular, boy from district 8 who stepped up to replace his younger brother. There was a boyish looking girl from District one, who was taller than everyone else in her pen. And finally both from district 2 volunteered, a short, but muscular boy, and an angry looking girl who seemed to wear a permanent scowl.

As I soaked in my competition I tried to imagine each one as a lifeless corpse, not eager to see them dead, but wanting to come to terms with this. If I was going to win, I couldn't be hesitant. It became hard to visualize the younger tributes dead, they all seemed so sweet and innocent. When I was "training" I never really though about how young the kids would actually be. I didn't think about the fact that it could be me ending their lives, destroying any future they may have had. But I couldn't let that get to me, I made promise to myself and my mother that I wouldn't go down with out a fight.

When we arrived at the capitol I was taken to meet the design crew that would create my costume to represent me as the girl from district 10. I was glad when they decided to go for Cow Girl instead of just Cow. Cows are just the food, they wait then they die. The Cow Girl is the one that brings the death. It's a bit dark to think of, but it put me in the right mindset for the games. Brought me back to the fact that I'm going to have to be that Cow Girl, and if I don't, I'm just meat. All the other Districts looked really cool, all dressed up to represent the trade their District specialized in. It made the fact that most of us were going to die in a few days seemed almost glamorous.

When we all went out to ride around the capitol in chariots there was cheering everywhere. As I stood in the chariot with Bos I saw all the tributes on screens. The volunteers from Districts 1 and 2 were smiling, triumphantly as if they'd already won the games. Every one else either looked depressed, or terrified. For them this was just an event that brought them officially closer to death.

Even if most of us were going to die the capitol provided a space where we could learn how to do anything that had any sort of relation to survival. I learned about what plants were safe. How to fight hand to hand, although I'm pretty good at that after restraining cows with hooves that could kick in my head. I also learned how to use spears, swords, clubs, and a bow and arrow.

On the last day of training we got to show case our talents for the game makers. They would rank us on a scale of 1 to 12 depending on how useful they thought our skills were. When I went in I decided to show case my restraining skills and my slicing skills. I took down a dummy tied it's legs together and when it was fully incapacitated I sliced it's throat, earning me a gasp from one of the game makers. I felt pretty fierce right about then. Later I found out that I earned a 7. Most of the tributes got 5s there were two nines from district 2, and district 1 obtained a ten.

Finally It's the night before the games, night for the interviews. Mostly there are kids sitting there looking like deer about to be shot. When they were asked questioned it usually came back to how scared or nervous they were. The volunteers from 1 and 2 said they couldn't wait and wanted to be in the arena right then and there. The boy from District 8 who stepped up for his younger brother said he was just glad that he could be there instead his sibling. When our interviewer asked me what I was thinking when I volunteered I answered, "I don't know. I'm just crazy I guess, it just felt right."

"Are you prepared for the games?" He asked.

"I hope so, I think I bring certain skills will me that can help me survive. And I plan on surviving." I said just as my time ran out.

The interviews finished and everyone got to head back to their sleeping quarters rest up for tomorrows games. I slept through the night, but I had nightmares of every tributes face, dead and blank. That was all I could think of on the hovercraft ride to the arena. As I got dressed my mind kept going back to how this may be the last thing I ever wear. I think about how, a year ago, I hated the idea of these games. A year ago I hated losing more than everything. A year ago, I would be watching what I'm about to enter right now. But now, I'm not losing everything; I plan on causing the losses. I'm not watching the games; I'm a part of it. And now I don't hate these games, I welcome them.

I think this as my platform rises into the arena. It goes too slowly and thoughts race through my mind. Finally my platform reaches the end of its chute. I look around my area. The arena is simple, a flat plane with a large rock out cropping in the distance. I see a patch of tall grass, the perfect place for an ambush. My eyes make their way to the cornucopia. I don't see my hammer, but I see knives, and rope. I notice and ax that would serve the same purpose as any hammer could and I set my mind on getting these items. Suddenly the horn signals the beginning of the hunger games, and I am running to the cornucopia.

The first battle at the cornucopia was the greatest rush of my life. After I got my ax and rope I had to fight the girl from district 1 for my knives. It was simple enough, I tripped her with the rope and brought my ax down on the middle of her forehead, my first kill was complete. It was then that I knew I could do this. As she died I grabbed the sack of food she already had and threw the knives in there. As I tried to escape the initial bloodshed I took out three of the other tributes, Bos was one of them. As I ran away I thought about who would be best to kill next, deciding that district 2 would be too troublesome to deal with later.

As the days went on I didn't get to see much action, I mainly stayed near the cornucopia, in ambush mode, in case anyone came back to get more supplies. There were a few, but I made sure they never completed their mission. When eight of us were left I thought about what my mother would say in her interview. Would she be proud of me for doing all I could to survive? Or would she hate the fact that her sweet daughter had transformed into a coldblooded killer?

After a week and a half four of us were left, the boy from district 8, both from district 2, and myself. The very people I knew would be the toughest to beat. As the game makers tried to bring us together for a "feast" I knew it was then that I would take them down. I waited in the tall grass for the other tributes to make their way to the cornucopia. The girl from district 2 arrived first. She looked hungry and weak, she held nothing with her and here clothes were shreds. I made a lasso and caught her by the neck. As I tried to pull her to me she died, not strong enough to survive even that.

This act brought me into the open as I hear a roar and quickly turned, extending my knife that met the other district 2 tribute's chest as he was about to decapitate me with his sword, only one more left.

I heard him before I saw him, "We don't have to kill each other." He said as he emerged from behind the cornucopia. "We don't have to let the Capitol win."

"There not going to win, I am." I said as I swung my ax into his neck. There was no way I would give up now.

With his dying breath he asked, "Why?"

He was right; in these stupid games I have the capitol what they wanted. I became the murderous monster I hated so much only a year ago, but I didn't really care about that. I gave the capitol the satisfactions they wanted in turning against everyone else. I don't care so much, but I'm still scared. I'm afraid of myself, I planned this I worked for this I made it my job; I made a career out of it. I made a career out of taking away more than we had to lose.

And I with that I knew, _I_ won the Hunger Games.

But the capitol conquered me.


End file.
